


on shifting wings

by sundaytimes



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7290874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sundaytimes/pseuds/sundaytimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Easy Company, with daemons. (Part character study, part collection of assorted scenes.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	on shifting wings

A lot of people fear Speirs because he's seen without his daemon. His daemon is a mouse and she never leaves his side.

He has a special pouch sewn into the inside of all his shirts so Anora can ride around with him in secrecy. She's not a big fan of other people and daemons, particularly predator daemons. No amount of Ron's reassurance will make her show herself in front of Colonel Sink and his eagle. He didn't need to say anything for her to raise her head out of hiding for Lipton and Sarina.

Most soldiers have canine daemons. Winters has a fox, one almost the same shade as his hair. Nixon has a pigeon. Good for blending in, good for an intelligence officer who doesn't want people to notice him. Not so good for the son of wealthy parents, who claim an adder and a Siamese as their daemons. 

Sobel has a wolf, which all of Easy agrees is too good for him. His wolf is male.

"It's unsettling. Don't you agree, Dick?" Nixon asks. His flask is nearing empty. Winters make a vague sound, neither agreement nor disagreement. Euridice looks up from her nose-to-tail curl on his bed to grin at Nixon, tongue lolling out. Nixon tips his flask to her.

* * *

Babe's black lab daemon crawls on her belly to try and get to Julian and Dalia. It's no good. The Germans shoot at her just as they shoot at Babe. When Martin calls them back, they go. Trinity first, tugging Babe's uniform with her teeth while he screams out to Julian that they're coming back for him.

Afterwards, they sit.

"We did our best." Trinity says. She's resting her head in Babe's lap, the rest of her lying on the cold ground. Normally Babe pulls her up so she's only touching him, keeping off the cold ground and warming him up.

Babe doesn't even look at her. He keeps staring off into the dark, through the trees. Trinity looked too, but there's nothing to see.

"We should have done better." Babe says finally. He drops a hand onto her head.

There's nothing Trinity can say to that.

They should have done better.

\--

With Gene on one side and Trinity on the other, Babe can say he is almost warm. He feels bad for Gene, because a snake can't do anything to help him with the cold. So he presses himself a little harder against Gene's side. He'd try and put an arm around his shoulders, but Ghislaine is in her customary position, looped loosely around Gene's neck. He doesn't want to accidentally touch her.

Babe also doesn't want to think about how he wants to purposefully touch her. Touch Gene. They're in the middle of a war, and while two men together isn't illegal anymore, it's not exactly celebrated. So Babe will just sit here, and touch nothing. And if Gene presses back, curls up a little into Babe's side, well. That's Gene's decision. And Babe isn't doing anything about here.

("He wants you to." Trinity says very softly as they sit in the church. "And Ghislaine, she wants us too.")

\--

Babe waits until after the war. After Austria, after handing in his papers, after getting home to his family.

He sleeps on the floor. His bed is too soft, feels like he's falling when he sinks down. So he sleeps on the floor and Trinity is his pillow. They wake at dawn every day. Babe does push-ups and sit-ups until his mother and her hummingbird daemon come to wake them up. The Babe slips into his bed and pretends he slept the whole night there. Trinity stays on the floor - she refuses to lie.

Two weeks of this, and Trinity decides it's enough.

"Book the ticket." She says firmly. Babe doesn't even try to argue. A week later, they're in Louisiana.

Gene isn't living with his parents. He's renting a quiet little house about a half hour walk outside a quiet little town. The late afternoon sun is almost hot, spring edging towards summer. Babe carries his jacket, then his shirt, leaving him in just his undershirt. He hasn't seen another soul since he left the edge of town. Trinity keeps darting ahead, circling back to Babe, darting ahead again. It's been a long time since Babe's seen her this happy. He knows he, too, hasn't smiled like this for a while.

They reach the house. Trinity finally comes and stays by Babe's side. She's almost trembling. Babe knocks, two hard raps.

Gene opens the door.

"Oh!"

"Sorry! I should've called to say I was coming." Babe realises. Trinity huffs a breath. Gene's got a white-knuckled grip on the door handle.

"No, it's alright. Um. Come in!" But he doesn't step back when Babe steps forward. There's barely a breath between them, but neither of them move. Ghislaine is the first. She slowly unwinds from Gene's neck. Babe watches her as she stretches out across the gap between them. She flicks her tongue against his cheek, startlingly cool. Trinity takes her cue, presses forward so Gene's hand is on her fur. It's weird. A weird sensation, like someone hovering their hand just above Babe's shoulder.

Ghislaine drops onto the floor beside Trinity. She leads her away, slithering ahead while Trinity steps carefully and politely behind her. 

Babe steps forward.

* * *

George has a lyrebird. When Antigone had settled, his mother had laughed and said, "of course! We should have known."

She becomes very good at barking when they're at Toccoa. In Germany, she wants to imitate gun shots and mortars, but she knows not to. Too many people get jumpy, and then George gets sad.

She doesn't imitate people. Just the ones they love. Just one thing they said. From his mother, "good night sweetheart." From his father, "well done, son." From his siblings, "George!" in all their voices.

It's just been family. Until now.

"Come on, Luz."

It's Joe's voice. Joe said it, last night, throwing an arm around his shoulder and shaking him a bit. Come on, Luz! as he'd pulled him along to the nearby card game.

George and Antigone stare at each other. Luckily they're alone, everyone else gone to the mess. George's shoelace had snapped, so now he's re-lacing his boot. His hands are frozen.

"We can't. You can't, okay?" He tells her eventually, lacing his boot up briskly. Too tight. "We just can't, Tig."

Antigone perches on his shoulder, puts her beak near his ear. "Come on, Luz." She says sadly, then imitates the whirr of a movie projector.

\--

George does his best, after that, not to show it. He hadn't really known it for sure, until Tig had said it, ad now he can't really unknow it, and it's always there in the back of his mind. But he does his best, and he must do well, because no one says anything.

Nobody but Tig, and then, Brynhild. Joe's sleeping, unconscious on a blanket next to them. Brynhild is awake and she's looking at George and Antigone.

"He doesn't understand it yet." She tells them. Her voice is kind, full of love and mild irritation at the limits of Joe's emotional knowledge. "But he'll get there."

George can't find anything to say. Antigone hops forward, makes a sound like a lighter clicking on and off. Brynhild drops her head until she can gently nose Antigone back towards George. When they touch, George shivers. Joe rolls over and stays asleep.

\--

At Bastogne, when George sees Joe lying on the ground, blood all around, he freezes. Tig tries to jump off his shoulder and over to Joe, but he catches her. He tells Lip about Buck, and then continues to watch them because he can't turn his head and look at Joe and still keep a secret. He doesn't know what Tig's doing, if she's giving it away.

Brynhild notices them. Joe doesn't. Brynhild can't say she's surprised. That's why he has her - to notice things he can't. To understand what he refuses to. Her leg hurts, but at least it's still her leg. 

She walks alongside the stretcher to the jeep. She's too short to reach his hand with her nose, so he drops his arm off the stretcher. When Joe is placed on the jeep, Brynhild lies on top of him as they are driven off the line. She hates it. Hates him being hurt, her being hurt, both of them leaving and not staying. They should be staying. It's their job to protect, their job to stay on the line even when they're hurt. But they haven't been hurt like this before.

\--

The hospital is a terrible place to be. Joe talks very little. Even to Brynhild. He spends a lot of time lying in bed, staring at Brynhild or the ceiling. Brynhild rests her head on her paws and stares back. She has always been the more patient one. She just has to wait, and Joe will break. 

\--

It takes a year to get a decent prosthetic. By then the war is long done. George comes home. Antigone comes home. By now she's learnt a hundred new sounds, not all of them ones George wants to hear. She still says to him "come on, Luz" when they're alone. It hasn't gotten any easier to hear. 

George sits in his rented room and asks her: "are you sure?"

"Yes." Antigone isn't serious much. She's always making fun, playing off George and flitting about, but in this, she's serious. 

"But I don't---we don't even _know_." Antigone perches on his shoulder and presses her feathered head to his cheek. Automatically, his hands come up to caress her.

"We know."

\--

Joe's walking, two legs even if one of them isn't his, when his mother brings him a letter. He's rented a flat, a short train ride away from his parent's place. A first floor flat.

"It doesn't say who it's from." His mother says, frowning a little. "But I thought it might be important."

It is important. He reads it once she's gone, the dinner she brought mostly eaten, the scraps on the plate on the floor for Brynhild to dissect. It's important, because it's from George.

_Hey Joe._

_Been a while. Bill said you needed your space. (I've been talking to Bill.)_

_I'm coming to visit. I thought about asking but I thought you might say no._

_My train gets in on the 17th._

_See you then._

_George Luz._

There's no return address.

\--

George arrives on the sixteenth. He carries his bag to Joe's parents house and is very kindly directed on to Joe's rooms after being fed and questioned extensively.

Brynhild and Joe open the door after six knocks.

Joe stares for a long moment. "You said you were coming tomorrow."

"Your parents are nice." Is the first thing George can think of in response.He'd be mad at himself but it softens the lines of Joe's face, lets him step back and gesture George and Antigone in.

They make awkward conversation for a few minutes. Joe slumps on the couch, surly. Brynhild doesn't settle beside him. Instead, she comes over to George and nudges him over to the couch. George holds his breath. Joe holds the muscles in his body tight with tension.

Antigone drops from George's shoulder and onto Joe's knee. "Come on, Luz." George lets out a shuddering breath. He draws it in again, to explain, but Joe's looking up at him with eyes wide and George can't help himself. He folds himself onto the seat next to Joe, takes his face in his hands and kisses him. Joe's hands come up to press against George's chest, his waist. Not pushing him away, clutching him tighter and kissing him harder until George is straddling Joe's lap and panting into his hair and Joe bites at his collarbone. He doesn't know where Tig is, where Brynhild is. He hopes they're not watching as he unfastens Joe's pants and reaches inside to palm at his hard dick. 

Joe rolls his hips up. George has one hand on Joe and one hand bracing on the back of the couch, so Joe drags one hand from George's hip and undoes George's pants. Joe can't brace his feet on the ground and push up into George's grip as he'd like to. Seemingly reading his mind, George lines them up, stroking them together as he shifts his hips, tiny movements helped by Joe's hands. They pant into each other's mouths, unable to coordinate enough to kiss. Joe pulls away, sucks a bruise into the soft skin just under George's jaw.

George can't stop himself talking, "you can, you can fuck me--I like it, I've done it before, you'll be so _good_ \--" but Joe comes shuddering and biting into George's still clothed shoulder. 

It doesn't take George long to follow after.

\--

They come apart and clean up only to drag themselves into Joe's bed. It's unmade, the sheets rumpled up at the end. Brynhild lies upon the sheets, Antigone perched on her head. She's whirring contentedly.

There is calm and quiet for a brief moment.

"Should we talk about all this? Because I feel like we should probably talk about. This. Everything. We don't have to! Obviously. But should we?"

Joe groans, hands covering his face. George stops talking. Antigone beeps.

"Do we have to talk about it? Can't we just..." Joe trails off, motioning between their bodies vaguely. George rolls closer. Joe's lying on his back, but he turns his head to face George directly. George takes a moment to organise his thoughts.

"I love you, so. Um. If you don't, we should probably talk about it."

Joe's breathing checks, then resumes. He reaches out, touches George on the soft skin of his stomach.

"We don't need to talk about it."

**Author's Note:**

> Since it isn't always clear:
> 
> Speirs: Anora; wood mouse
> 
> Lipton: Sarina; boxer
> 
> Winters: Euridice; red fox
> 
> Nixon: Myriam; rock pigeon
> 
> Heffron: Trinity; black labrador retriever
> 
> Roe: Ghislaine; corn snake
> 
> Luz: Antigone; lyrebird
> 
> Toye: Brynhild; American Pit Bull Terrior


End file.
